


mother nurse

by Kazura



Category: Disgaea (Games)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazura/pseuds/Kazura
Summary: To Laharl's surprise, Flonne somehow ropes even their Netherworld Nurse into fighting him. The young Overlord's far from amused.





	mother nurse

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in D5's DD2 scenario, specifically during the fight with Flonne.

“No, not _you_.”

Florence has the gall to attempt to look innocent. Holding her staff as menacingly as an all-too-soft-looking nurse could manage, she tilts her head. “Pardon?” Her voice tinkles like a bell, and it wouldn’t have been a cause for alarm if the next words that came out of her mouth weren’t that of an offensive spell.

Seriously, what the hell are they all even doing?

Florence’s magic sings, a gentle lullaby of clear night skies and the quiet crackling of wood. Her flames, erupting from the runes that have formed below him, would have earned his approval, if they weren’t directed at _him_.

Despite her apparent aversion to participating in any of their usual skirmishes, Florence’s magic is not something he considers trifling with. Years of tending to their injuries, from small scrapes to gaping wounds, have pushed her capacities past their initial limit.

Even Laharl can’t afford to let her offensive spells touch him more than they already have.

“Florence,” he hisses, kicking one foot against the ground, jumping away from the center of her spell. “Get back to your station!”

“I’m afraid I have already promised Flonne that I would offer her my assistance if this were to happen.” As if to make a point, she casts another spell, drawing forth runes that call upon the spirits of the stars.

Barely managing to jump away from the pentacle beneath his feet, Laharl bristles. He turns his head to glare at Flonne, who’s apparently in the middle of poking Etna. Poking her _halfheartedly_ , with Flonne using her staff to gently jab at Etna’s sides, while Etna uses _the wrong end of her spear_ in returning the favor.

“And what,” he growls, “exactly is happening?”

Florence chuckles. “I do wonder.” Her words are a song, one that would normally not grate on his nerves. Now, with Flonne declaring an attack against him and dragging their damn healer along, this just adds more to the aggravation that has miraculously not urged him to pull out his hair. Yet.

Hands shaking, he gapes at Florence’s smile instead. Has she always been this way? Has she been deceiving him all along? The nerve!

“Give me that!” The chains hanging from the shackles around her wrists rattle as he snatches her staff away from her hands. It doesn’t completely prevent her from casting more magic spells, but the absence of a medium that would strengthen them should discourage her. Right?

Gritting his teeth, Laharl swings the staff out of reach. “Just get back to the hospital!”

Opening and closing her hands, Florence hums. Even after being robbed of her weapon, she doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed. Commendable, and certainly worthy of her place as one of his most trusted vassals, but why now? Why now, damn it!

“Oh dear,” their usually mild-mannered nurse laments. “I’m not really good with using my fists.” Clenching her hands, she takes a stance anyway. A sight to behold, considering how her movements often ripple with grace and elegance. “Well, there’s always a first time for everything, isn’t there? Please prepare yourself, Your Highness.”

The display, coupled with her nonchalant declaration that she will indeed resort to using her fists, takes him aback, and he all but screeches, “Don’t use them!”

Florence lowers her hands. “Was that you, Your Highness? You’re certainly growing up. Please forgive me for feeling a sense of pride. Very well. In light of the occasion, I shall try to use my magic once more, if that is what you prefer.”

Laharl curses under his breath. Can this get any worse? He’s going to need to go about this another way. Taking in a shaky breath, he asks, “Aren’t you needed at the hospital?”

“Thankfully, everyone’s already been discharged,” Florence chirps. With one hand over her chest, she gestures around them with the other. “It is a fine day, after all, wouldn’t you agree?”

So the hospital is empty, yet the one usually trailing after her like a duckling when he isn’t attending to his younger sister is nowhere to be found. The tallest, pinkest duckling.

Laharl scans the area. “If you’re having Xenolith ambush me, I’m confiscating this thing for good.” He waves the staff for emphasis. Xenolith’s techniques may be rough, but Laharl would rather not deal with him on top of everyone else in the hall. He’s yet to come up with a way to subdue Flonne, too. She’s going to get it, that one.

“Oh dear. I quite like that staff. But no, Your Highness. Xenolith is out on an errand. He’ll be back soon, I believe. In the meantime, you would have to be satisfied with me. Would you prefer that I use a sword like he does?”

“No! That’s not it! Just!” Stomping a foot, he lets out a cry of frustration. This day has been one thing after the other. Florence, whom everyone prides to be an expert at making things better, is not making things any better! “Stay put, and wait until I deal with everyone else.”

With a furrowed brow, Florence tilts her head. “You haven’t dealt with me yet.”

Incredulous, Laharl stares at her. “You _want_ me to knock you out?”

Hands folded before her, Florence hums. He swears the corners of her eyes are crinkling. “The ideal situation is that I knock you out, Your Highness.”

“How is that ideal?” he demands, his voice rising several octaves higher. Never mind that the idea of being knocked out by his own nurse should be flaring up all kinds of warning signals in his brain.

“Well,” Florence says, her voice soothing, “I could imagine why you would not feel the same. Truthfully, I would like to avoid knocking you out, but duty calls.”

“ _Your_ duty is to take care of anyone who does get knocked out!” And she can’t very well do that if _she’s_ the one knocked out, can she? Seriously. And she’s supposed to be one of his saner vassals!

A sheepish laugh tumbles out of Florence’s lips. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Damn right!”

From behind him, the clamor of whatever game his vassals are playing pounds against his ears. Patience stretched far too thin, he snaps. “You lot, be quiet!” His voice reverberates throughout the room, stirring the air as everyone and everything else around him comes to a screeching halt. Even the demon who’s been occupying the attention of most of his vassals in his place blinks at him.

Etna doesn’t even bother righting her hold on her spear. Ridiculous. And she’s the one who dares look at him as if he’s the one who’s grown two more heads? “Prince, what are you doing?”

“Hey,” one of his other vassals gasps. “He’s taking Mom away!”

“What? That’s not fair, Prince!”

“Flonne! The Prince is cheating!”

“Laharl, I can’t believe you!” What kind of courage Flonne possesses to actually cry out such words at him despite her own questionable decisions is something he can’t comprehend. Not at this moment.

“Shut up!” he snaps back. He barely has the capacity to deal with this. Since this morning, he’s been dragged all over the place. No more.

Even Florence is betraying him. Her sheepish laughter has long died down, only to be replaced by her muffled giggling. Despite her hands covering her lips, he still manages to hear her next words, soaked in far too much amusement than he’d prefer. “I do apologize for all of this.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” he accuses, tucking her confiscated staff into the folds of his scarf. Taking her by a shoulder with his now free hand, he guides her to turn around before pushing her towards the direction of the hospital.

While she barely shows a hint of remorse, she doesn’t bother struggling. Good. She has finally seen sense. “Shall I give it another try?”

“No,” he says dryly. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he hooks a foot around one of the stools near her desk and drags it closer to him. “Sit down. And stay there.” She answers him with a smile, similar to the ones she gives Porkmeister whenever he trips. He leers at her in defiance. “Don’t move.”

Florence breathes out a laugh. Unbelievable. He’ll certainly deal with her later.

**Author's Note:**

> They love Laharl. They just want to throw him a surprise birthday party. Honest :))
> 
> This one's really old by the time I'm posting it (2017/11/07!!), but I laughed when I read it again, so I thought I'd share it here.
> 
> For more ways to find me, [here's my Carrd](https://artwaltzed.carrd.co/).


End file.
